book in his pocket, intending, if necessary, to pay the
undertaker's expenses. His surprise, therefore, was great when he
learned that "the Professor" had died worth from ten to eleven thousand
pounds. Leigh, who lived for some years in Hammersmith Road, in a house
which, judged from its exterior, promised little comfort within, was a
profound Shakespearean and a good classical scholar, and from these
attainments he earned the sobriquet by which he was known. He vied with
Jerrold himself in his knowledge of the Bard, and was fond of spouting
the poets, classic and English, with the least possible excuse, breaking
out into verse with a loud voice, utterly oblivious of his companions.
It was he who introduced into the pages of _Punch_ the assumption of
scholarship in its readers, and so acquired at once for the paper a
position never held by any other humorous journal in this country. His
work, which for many years averaged a column and a half each week,
included nearly every sort of contribution known to _Punch_, including,
in 1845, his striking "Pauper Song"--the wail of the poor man who
prefers the prison to the workhouse, the second stanza running thus:--

"There shall I get the larger crust,
The warmer house-room there;
And choose a prison since I must,
I'll choose it for its fare.
The Dog will snatch the biggest bone,
So much the wiser he:
Call me a Dog;--the name I'll own:--
The gaol--the gaol for me."

In 1843 Leigh began his effectively satirical "_Punch's_ Labours of
Hercules," and in 1849 "Mr. Pipps's Diary" appeared as the text
accompanying Doyle's pictures of "Ye Manners and Customs of ye
Englyshe." The extraordinary success of this admirable parody was,
perhaps, the greatest he ever won, though he achieved many. He was
essentially a "safe man" at his work, and for that reason he would act
as _locum tenens_ to Shirley Brooks when that Editor was away; and the
only occasions on which he failed (so far as I can ascertain) except
towards the end, was in May, 1847, when his wife died, and in April of
the following year, when he lost his father. He always had a strong
feeling for art, both in subject and treatment, and was always very
fastidious about his work; he would touch up a poem over and over again,
and take the utmost pains with metre and "swing" until he was satisfied.

But as he grew old it became evident that the "Professor" was beyond his
work, and although he attended the